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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674295">The Right Hand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyCurse/pseuds/FriendlyCurse'>FriendlyCurse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twin Peaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hopelessness warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:56:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22674295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyCurse/pseuds/FriendlyCurse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beware the owls and the forest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Right Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rasp of the pages turning was often the only sound he heard. On a good day. He stared at the words without seeing them and tried to forget the rustle of feathers, the ominous hoot. He could barely remember the days of his youth when he had loved owls. Now... Now he just wanted to run.</p><p>If only it would do any good. He dreamed about escape, a normal life in a big city far from this cursed forest but he knew it would never be more than a dream.</p><p><i>"You will help me... You can be my willing right hand or I can be your hands." </i>Bob's threat, spoken through a curtain of stringy gray hair, still seemed to ring in his ears some days. He had thought to fight that first night so many years ago... but then Bob had showed him as if it were really happening, he had seen what would happen if he fought. </p><p>Bob was not a human and felt only giddy joy when he destroyed lives, shed the blood of innocent people, tortured them to insanity... and if he did not follow orders, if he refused to lure victims to the woods, Bob would steal his body and kill everyone he loved. He would have to see his wife, his son, his friends as they died by the hands of someone they trusted.</p><p>Bob had sworn to leave his family in peace if he did as he was told and he had to agree. As terrible as the thought was, as much as his future scared him, he surrendered. That night he walked away from his family in the dead of night with only one bag full of clothes and a few treasured books. </p><p>At Bob's direction he plied a specific woman in the Roadhouse with a few too many drinks and took her to the forest. Bob met them there and directed him to his new home. The woman's screams followed him most of the way there.</p><p>Three books of philosophy, four novels, and the Bible. That was all he had for company most of the time at first. He had slowly accumulated a few more but none of them helped. However he chose to interpret reality, what he was doing was wrong and he had to find a way out. Every time he had tried it was as if Bob was was watching and waiting to remind him. </p><p>The first time he tried to run away he seemed only to blink and he was standing on the edge of town with a knife in his hands. He had been scared enough he didn't try again for over a year. After screams seemed to chase him home a few more times he decided to try again, leaving in the morning since he mostly saw Bob at night. Again he blinked and lost time, opening his eyes to find himself standing outside his house with that damned knife.</p><p>He didn't try again, he could feel the almost psychotic combination of angry disapproval and cheerful expectation from the man who deemed himself the King of Ghostwood. Bob saw the town of Twin Peaks as his toy collection.</p><p>The low hoot of the owl sounded again and he cringed, it was almost time. Bob was restless. The owls were always noisy when he was ready for a new toy to be brought to him. </p><p>"What have I done?" He whispered to himself as he recalled the faces of the innocent people he had led or dragged to their deaths. The weight of the guilt had become almost tangible since the last one... the woman had seemed so genuinely sweet that he was absolutely certain the world was a worse place without her. </p><p>They had talked for quite some time before the inevitable end. He knew it had to stop, he had to find a way. The problem he came across again and again was that there seemed only one way and Bob was a very spiteful man. He knew if he killed himself he would go to Hell and certainly deserve it but he was less certain as to the fate of others. Would his family still be killed? Would Bob just replace him? The hidden cabin he lived in had been old when he arrived so it was possible he had replaced someone else.</p><p>Every book he had read agreed that suicide was foolish but he had to get out, had to stop, he simply had to for his own sanity. Those books didn’t really apply to him - there was no hope, things would not get better.</p><p>The hoot of an owl pushed at his mind and a cold sweat accompanied him to the rustic kitchen. Not again. I can't do it again... </p><p>Before he could change his mind or Bob could stop him, he snatched a knife from the sink and plunged it into his chest as close to his heart as possible. Pain filled his awareness then faded as panic set in and his adrenaline began pumping at a surge of low laughter across the room. He looked up to see Bob watching with a wide grin. </p><p>“There is no way out.” Bob said cheerfully as he approached the quickly spreading pool of blood. “Especially not now.”</p><p>He took a breath to scream but his aim with the knife had been good and he was already woozy. A shattered sigh was all that came out as he fell to the floor and through it… falling, falling, falling….</p><p>Ground appeared under him, jagged black and white lines. He looked around at walls covered by red curtains, sparse furnishings, a single light… and Bob. That horrible smile, a wild hunger fueled by madness in those eyes…</p><p>He clambered to his feet and ran for the curtain, discovering it had no wall behind it. The moment he found an edge and pulled it aside he heard the thumping of Bob’s boots approaching fast behind him. A hallway, more curtains… </p><p>He ran, terror pushing him on as the demon chased him through the endless maze. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny, insane voice giggled. <i>What’s black and white and red all over? So this is Hell...</i></p>
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